Little Slice of Heaven
by Bubbly-Soda
Summary: Welcome to male stripping, the world of easy money and even easier women. When Curt Hawkins, a struggling college freshman is offered a chance at immortality by the mysterious Tyler Reks, he jumps at the opportunity. Curt's best friend Maryse Ouellet however opposes the idea of his new occupation and believes that Tyler is a bad influence. Will he be able to convince her otherwise?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I'm back! After a massive break in writing and uploading stories due to school (only two more exams to go and I've finished forever!), I've finally been able to give you guys a new story! This one is extremely different to 'I'm Brining Sexy Back' (which is currently being rewritten, the first chapter hopefully isn't too far away) and to most wrestling stories that I've seen on Fanfiction & I hope you all enjoy it :)  
It's loosely based on the movie 'Magic Mike' and was inspired by Tyler/Curt's final episode of Smackdown before Reks left the company. **_

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The sound of female screams filled the dark, smoky room. A single spotlight shined down on the lone figure currently standing on the raised stage. He glanced out into the audience, the room crowded with hen's party goers, 21st birthday celebrators and the occasional group of blushing house wives. He adjusted the cowboy hat which seemed to be permanently placed on his head, "alright, alright, alright! Ladies, give it up for The Masterpiece!" he said into the microphone – eliciting more whoops of excitement from the audience, his audience – gesturing towards the extremely well built man walking backstage who had just performed for the all female crowd, "and now, the moment you've all been waiting for," he paused for a moment as the DJ played the sound of a drum roll over the PA system, "he's the man of your dirty, secret fantasies. Sent down from heaven itself, he is the one, the only, Gabriel!" the room went black, lit only by the small lamps set on each table, as he jumped down from the stage, clearing the area for the act. He walked over to the DJ booth to watch his next performer.

Fog began to envelop the stage; small lights flashed on and off down the runway. The women cheered in anticipation for the final act of what had been a very enjoyable night. Sounds of flutes and harps played melodically as a spotlight slowly lit up the area, illuminating a dreadlocked man dressed all in white, his head bowed, palms facing together in prayer. He raised his head, looking out at all the women who had paid to see him, a smile plastered on his face. Suddenly the music changed, electronic dance beats filled the air as the man ripped off his crisp shirt, throwing it into the audience, revealing his toned and chiselled torso. He thrust his hips in time with the drum beats, scanning the crowd for one lucky woman. He pointed to a dark haired female near the edge of the stage, wearing a hot pink sash with silver writing reading 'Finally 21' in big cursive letters. He pulled her up onto the performance area, placing her hands on his chest as she looked at her friends in excited shock.

The man known only as 'Gabriel' pulled the birthday girl closer to him, grinding his body against hers as she stuffed dollar bills in the back pockets of his white pants. This is what he loved about his job; the female attention. Her hands lingered in his pockets, roaming over his backside and moving up towards his head. But he stopped her from attempting to kiss him. One of their rules, "never kiss the clients", Gabriel and the other dancers had been told that multiple times from their manager "you're here to entertain them, not to fall in love with them". Gabriel restrained the excited girl's wandering hands above her head with one of his as she squealed, looking out at her friends with a big grin on her face. Using his spare arm, he lifted the girl up so her legs wrapped around his waist, as he continued to move his hips against hers, "happy birthday," he whispered seductively in her ear, letting go of her hands and stabilising her body against his.

Her hands trailed down his torso, tracing the lines of his abdomen, and placing more paper notes into the front of his pants. The music trailed off, returning to the melodic harmonies, as Gabriel helped the girl back to her seat and resumed his position in the centre of the raised stage, bowing his head as the room went black again.

The man with the cowboy hat walked back to the stage, microphone in hand "and that, my lovely ladies, is the end of the show," he said, an exaggerated look of sadness crossing his face, "but I do know, I'll be seeing you all again," he added with a wink. Watching as the various groups of women left the venue, he let out a contented sigh, another successful night, yet again. "Hunter," he called out to his business partner who was situated behind the bar counting out green notes, "how much tonight?"

Hunter ran his hand across his closely shaved hair, frustrated at the interruption in his counting of the money, "dammit Shaun," he said in an angry tone, letting his long-time friend know about his annoyance, "last count was $1755," Hunter remembered, watching as Shaun's face broke into a smile, "$500 more than last night."

"We're finally getting somewhere," Shaun grinned. He always knew that opening up a male strip club in the Floridian college town of Isolah was a profitable idea, college girls were known to be particularly fond of 6 foot plus, tanned, muscle-bound males. Little did the two men predict that their club 'Little Slice of Heaven' would become a popular destination for women of all ages. Although they'd only been open for a few months, Shaun and Hunter already had 21st birthday bookings being placed six months in advanced, "finally," he repeated quietly to himself.

Meanwhile in the change room located backstage, the 'Little Slice of Heaven' boys were drinking celebratory after-drinks and counting the multiple dollar bills that they'd earned throughout the night. "Damn, that chick was all over you Ty," Chris 'The Masterpiece' Masters said to Tyler, taking a swig of the Budweiser in his hand.

"What can I say?" Tyler replied, trading his white shirt for a black wife-beater, "the girls all want a piece of Gabriel," he added cockily, holding his fist out to a nearby Johnny Curtis for a fist-bump.

"But it's 'Mr America' they really want, and you know it Ty," Derrick Bateman said as he returned from the shower, referring to his stripper alter-ego, "everyone loves a patriotic dude."

The other three just shook their heads and laughed at Shaun's newest recruit. Derrick had only been working for a few weeks, but his ego was already as big as his apparently well-endowed member. "Anyway guys, I'm off," Tyler said, quickly downing the remainders of his Budweiser, "catch y'all tomorrow."

Stepping out into the warm Floridian night breeze, Tyler began the long walk back to his apartment. The streets were crowded with the usual Saturday night party crowd. Although he didn't attend the local college, Tyler definitely enjoyed living in Isolah, there was always plenty of young, attractive females who relished the idea of going home with him, especially when they learnt of his occupation. Girls loved construction workers in general, but when they were also male strippers it was a definite bonus.

"Hey! Why don't you watch where you're going?" an angry voice snapped Tyler out of his thoughts, "shit man, you broke my guitar," the voice continued in its tirade. Tyler got a good look at the person he'd run into, a young male with long hair, an empty case at his feet and a semi-expensive looking electric guitar laying on the road with a snapped neck and broken strings. Tyler cringed internally, knowing that he'd have to shell out the money to replace the guy's instrument.

"I'll pay to get it fixed, don't worry," Tyler sighed, slightly irritated at himself. The angry male retrieved his iPhone from his pocket and gave it to Tyler, asking him to put his details in, "come see me tomorrow," Tyler said, before walking off, leaving the boy to deal with his broken guitar.

After picking up his broken instrument and replacing it in its flimsy case, Curt Hawkins looked at his phone to figure out the identity of the guy who'd run into him.

_Tyler Reks_

'_Little Slice of Heaven'_

_Ask for Shaun or Hunter and they'll get me for you_

"Didn't even leave a freakin' number," Curt said to himself, still feeling irate about the events which had just occurred, "and what the hell is 'Little Slice of Heaven'?" he figured he'd ask Maryse if she had any idea about the place once he returned to his college dorm. All Curt knew was that tomorrow, Tyler Reks had better be where he said he would, nobody breaks his guitar and gets away with it.

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_**Author's Note: So what did everyone think? I would love some feedback, especially as it's a new story of mine and I would appreciate everyone's thoughts of what they like/dislike and whether they want to read more. So please, don't be afraid to leave a review :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note: BIG thankyou to __foldintothenight for reviewing, __The Viper's Krazy Chick for reviewing & favouriting and shiki94 for reviewing & alerting, as well to those who read my story. Hope you all enjoyed it :)_**

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The lone sound of drumbeats filled the air of the local dive bar. Curt stood on the small stage, guitar in hand as he awaited his cue to come in. The sound of his electric instrument soon joined the drum, as a cover of Nickelback's _Bottoms Up_ was being played by the band, the music filtering through the open windows into the Floridian night. They always ended their Saturday night gig with the same song, encouraging the select group of patrons to enjoy the rest of the night. Curt was joined on stage by his long-time friends and band mates, Jeff Hardy, Phil 'Punk' Brooks and Adam 'Edge' Copeland. "Bottoms up!" Jeff sang into the microphone, effectively ending the performance for the night as the usual group of alternative, college-goers applauded and cheered for the band.

The manager and owner of the bar walked over to the group, tip jar and a wad of $20 notes in his hand. "Great work tonight boys," he congratulated his regular Saturday act has he handed each member $100 and the tip jar to be divided amongst themselves.

"Thanks Steve," Curt replied, shaking the bald-headed man's hand. He was still so grateful for being hired, despite Steve's original hesitation to due to the boys' ages. However an increase in patronage and profit soon led him to 'forget' about the legal issues of employing under 21's to work in his bar. Steve figured that all four band members could pass for 21, as long as the police didn't happen to check their ID's and see that they were in fact two years younger.

"No worries," Steve said, "I'll see you boys next Friday, same time," he continued as the band finished packing up most of their equipment, the drums and amplifiers being left behind in their usual spot on the stage, before walking off to serve a female group who were clearly celebrating a 21st.

"I'll catch up with you guys back at the dorm," Curt said, "I've got to go and see Ryse," he added, picking up the case containing his electric guitar, his most prized possession.

"You and that girl," Edge said with a shake of his head, "how have you _not_ tapped that?" he asked incredulously.

"Bro…" Curt replied, a slight look of disgust crossing his face, "she's practically my sister," he said for what felt like the millionth time. His friends just couldn't grasp the fact that he, Curt Hawkins, was "just friends" with Isolah College's most eligible freshmen bachelorette Maryse Ouellet. In fact they found the idea that Curt was even friends with her to be more unbelievable, "I'll see you all later," he said as he left the dingy bar.

Curt began the short walk from the bar to the campus, by now he knew the route like the back of his hand. Suddenly, he found himself colliding with a solid form, and watched in horror as his guitar case dropped on the ground, sending the contents crashing onto the road. "Hey! Why don't you watch where you're going?" he snapped angrily at the dreadlocked figure, "shit man, you broke my guitar," he continued on his tirade after examining the remains of his guitar, of his livelihood.

Curt managed to get a good look at the man who had ran into him. Tall, dreadlocked and muscle-bound, he cringed internally as he realised that this man could break him as easily as his guitar. "I'll pay to get it fixed, don't worry," the man sighed, irritation colouring his voice. Curt retrieved his black iPhone from his pocket and gave it to the man, asking him to put his details in, "come see me tomorrow," he added after giving Curt the necessary information, and then continued to walk off down the street.

After picking up his broken instrument and replacing it in its flimsy case, Curt looked at his phone to figure out the identity of the guy who'd run into him.

_Tyler Reks_

'_Little Slice of Heaven'_

_Ask for Shaun or Hunter and they'll get me for you_

"Didn't even leave a freakin' number," he said to himself, still feeling irate about the events which had just occurred, "and what the hell is 'Little Slice of Heaven'?" he mumbled to himself as he reached the co-ed dormitory, placing the case on his bed before walking down the hallway to Maryse's room. He figured he may as well ask her what 'Little Slice of Heaven' was while he was visiting.

Curt knocked on the door of the room which Maryse shared with Rosa Mendes, hearing girly giggling coming from the other side of the white wood, "is everyone decent?" he asked, something he had gotten in the habit of since accidently walking in on Maryse getting changed once. Not that he didn't enjoy the view, but like he told his friends, she was practically his sister and it was just _weird_.

"Eww, go away Curt," came the accented reply of Rosa, as he smirked to himself, shaking his head. It wasn't only his friends who couldn't believe that the two of them were friends. But unlike Curt's friends – who encouraged the friendship – Maryse's friends tried to discourage the French-Canadian beauty from even speaking to '_that_ guitar player' as if he possessed some sort of hideous, contagious disease.

"I'm coming in ladies," Curt said, dismissing Rosa's disproval. He was greeted by the sight of not only Maryse and Rosa, but also Eve Torres and Nikki & Brie Bella, the twins which Jeff was obsessed with; only because he couldn't decide which one he thought was more attractive. He kissed Maryse on the cheek, something he'd been doing since they first became friends, since Maryse slapped him for not saying 'hello' the French way. Out of the corner of his eye, Curt saw Eve pretending to gag.

"How can you let that _thing_ touch you Ryse?" Eve asked in disbelief, "seriously." Maryse shot her friend a deadly glare, effectively shutting up Eve Torres. She knew that her new college friends didn't approve of her friendship with Curt, but they didn't know the whole story. Maryse and Curt had been friends for as long as she could remember, his parents were like a second family to her. And while she could admit, if it wasn't for their families, the two of them probably would never have spoken to each other, Maryse wasn't going to ditch her best friend because the girls didn't approve.

"Girls, can you leave us for a bit. I need to talk to Curt," the tone of her voice turning the question into a statement. The other four females reluctantly left the room, Rosa the most unwilling to be kicked out of her own room. "Sorry about them," Maryse said to Curt, disappointment colouring her voice. She wished her friends didn't treat him like he was the dirt beneath their Manolo Blahniks.

"Na, it's alright," he said, flashing her a cheerful smile. He honestly wasn't worried about the opinions of the four brunettes. "I've got a question. Do you know what 'Little Slice of Heaven' is?" he asked the French-Canadian curiously. He had assumed it was some boutique clothing store, but then again, he couldn't imagine the intimidating Tyler Reks stacking clothes in size and colour order.

Maryse stifled a laugh with her manicured hand, looking at Curt incredulously, "um…" she started, "why?" Maryse questioned her friend, who before tonight, would have no problem believing that he was straight. Now however, she wondered about her judgement.

"Some douchebag broke my guitar. Apparently he works there," Curt replied, filling in Maryse with the events which had occurred previous to his visit.

A look of shock crossed her features, "your guitar's broken?" she asked disbelievingly. She knew how much the instrument meant to her friend, "I can pay to get it fixed. I don't mind."

Curt shook his head, unable to accept her offer, "I can't Ryse. That dick needs to pay for his mistake, and I need to prove to my parents that I don't need their money or support to be successful," Curt said, resent filling his voice at the mention of his parents. When he left for college, they cut him off from his trust fund. It was their idea of punishment for not following their career paths of medicine, and instead deciding to study music to be one step closer to achieving his dream of becoming a worldwide music sensation.

"Well okay," Maryse said, finally accepting Curt's refusal of help, "you want to know what 'Little Slice of Heaven' is?" she dragged out giving him the answer, awaiting the look of disbelief to cross his face, "it's a male strip club."

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_**Author's Note: another chapter done and dusted. What did everyone think? Are the characters the right choice? What about the way Maryse's friends treat Curt? Any ideas as to what the next chapter may be about? Leave your thoughts in a review you lovely readers :) xx**_


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